could anybody live in a place
that didn’t have ready access to multiple Starbucks locations?
That alone was reason to move to Los
Angeles.
Brandie didn’t seem to take offense to my
question. She was occupied craning her neck to try and get a look
at the houses that were hidden behind the tall trees and thick
shrubs that had been planted to keep people from doing just
that.
“There’s one over in the next town, but it’s
kind of a long way,” Brandie said. “Mom says it’s too far to drive
to get an overpriced cup of coffee.”
That was probably true—but it wasn’t the
point.
I drove to the Commons shopping center and we
parked outside of Starbucks. Inside, I recommended a mocha
frappuccino—the world’s most fabulous drink—and Brandie went for
it. We both got ventis with extra whip cream and double chocolate
drizzle.
“Oh my God, this is fabulous,” Brandie moaned
after the first sip. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and
snapped a selfie. “I’m posting this on Facebook.”
I hated to think about Brandie going back
home and never enjoying a frappie again. I mean, really, was that
any way to live?
“Give me your phone,” I said.
She looked as if I’d just asked for one of
her kidneys, but finally handed it over. I accessed my Starbucks
account and downloaded their app, then handed the phone back to
her.
“You can use my account,” I said, “and get a
drink whenever you want.”
Brandie looked down at her cell phone as if
it was suddenly worth its weight in gold—which it kind of was, now
that it had a Starbucks app on it.
“And the drinks will be free?” she asked,
looking up at me as if I’d taken on rock star status. “You’d do
that for me?”
“Sure,” I said.
It would be cool to see that she’d used the
app and know she was at Starbucks enjoying a drink I’d introduced
her to. I knew there was a chance Brandie would go back home and
treat all of her friends to multiple drinks at my expense, but if
she did I could just cancel the card.
“That is so cool,” she told me. “Thanks.”
“Have you been to the beach yet?” I
asked.
Her eyes got big. “Can we go? Is it far? Can
we go now?”
“You bet.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
We got back into my Honda and I drove to the
101, then headed north—which always feels like west to me—and
exited on Las Virgenes. Most signs of civilization gradually
disappeared as the two lane road wound through the rugged
canyons.
Brandie seemed more interested in the scenery
and taking pics with her cell phone than talking, which was okay
with me. I kept replaying in my head what Cassie had told me.
Renée wasn’t happy and blamed it on Veronica,
claiming she’d cheated her out of money from the candy business
that she felt should be hers. Was that a motive for murder, or
what?
I couldn’t shake the memory of how Renée had
blasted into the house immediately upon arrival, and how she’d been
in there alone for quite some time. She’d even admitted she’d been
all over the house.
Had she really been searching for a bathroom?
Or was that a clever cover story?
And where had Erika been during that same
time? She’d disappeared pretty much as soon as the family got out
of the limo. Did she think this was her chance to murder Veronica?
That having so many new people in the house might create more
suspects? Could she have wanted Patrick back in her life badly
enough to murder Veronica?
Of course, Julia had vanished at the same
time. I had no reason to think she’d want Veronica dead—enough to
actually murder her, that is—but I couldn’t let go of her as a
suspect.
“Oh my God,” Brandie said.
I saw then that a slice of the Pacific Ocean
had appeared ahead of us between the hills.
“This is awesome,” she said.
I was with her on that. Even after living my
whole life here, the sight of the ocean was still cool.
We drove down the winding road and I turned
left on Pacific Coast Highway at Malibu.
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